


There but for God's Grace

by keysburg



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Early defrosting of Steve Rogers, Endgame Peggysous, F/M, Full Blown Spykink, POV Daniel Sousa, content by weight is 68 percent angst 30 percent salt and 2 percent other added flavors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysburg/pseuds/keysburg
Summary: What life might have been like if Daniel hadn't lost his leg.I dislike the ubiquitous "Steve Rogers is located and defrosted before the modern age" trope, so I wrote this deconstruction.





	There but for God's Grace

March 1950

The baby cried, rousing Daniel from a sound sleep. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stopping to rub his knees sleepily before standing. He’d had that dream again, the one where his leg was missing instead of lightly scarred. He shook it off and went to the crib. 

He was down in the kitchen, rummaging for a washcloth in the icebox when a feminine figure came around the corner. He peered at it. 

“Betty Jo?” he asked. 

“Who else would it be?” she replied. “I can’t believe he woke you.”

Daniel frowned. It was true, he wasn’t often up with the kids in the middle of the night. He’d come back from the war essentially bomb-proof. It wasn’t fair to Betty Jo--who had been the nicest, prettiest girl in their high school--but she wouldn’t wake him either. 

“Well, I’ve got him now,” he said. “Go back to bed.”

She stared at them strangely for a minute, and then headed back up the stairs. Daniel located the washcloth and headed for the rocking chair in the living room.

It was pulled up next to the window, and he could see down all of Winter Ave now that the new street lamps were in. He murmured soothing things and rocked the baby and wondered how often Pai had done the same with him, albeit in a much darker, plainer house. There was a lot more frippery in the living room than there had been when Pai was still alive. Crocheted doilies and fabric trimmed most of the surfaces and the curtains had a lot of tassels: Betty Jo’s way of making the house hers. Daniel thought it was a bit much, but if it made Betty Jo happy, it was worth it.

She was still awake when he put the baby down and returned to bed, probably because she was up around this time every night. Her figure had gotten a little more full with her pregnancies, mostly in her lower half. She still had the fine ash-blonde hair and delicate features that had won her many high school beaus, although her eyes looked a little dull as she watched him return to bed. Daniel turned to her, kissing her deeply.

She responded hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to encourage him or not. He pulled back, teasing her lips with his tongue until she leaned in, seeking a deeper kiss. But she moved his hand away when he tried to stroke her breasts.

“Still sore,” she said.

“Sorry,” he replied. He sent his hand searching for the hem of her nightgown.

Her hand gripped his wrist. “I don’t have my diaphragm in,” she whispered. 

“Do you want me to stop? Or… we could get creative?” he murmured into her ear. 

She hesitated a moment too long. 

“It’s okay,” he said, kissing her temple. “Get some sleep.”

He lay awake long after Betty Jo, less frustrated than empty. Having it off would have helped, but what he really craved was intimacy. They were less partners sharing a load than separate units each bent on their own tasks. Most men would be perfectly happy with that--Daniel couldn’t fault Betty Jo for any of it.

* * *

In the morning, Betty Jo had breakfast done and the older children, both girls, were already eating. The baby was sitting in his high chair, babbling at them. Daniel caught a little bit of a guilty look from the eldest.

“Ellie, let me see your math homework, please,” he said as he sat down. Betty Jo put a big plate of food in front of him as his daughter gave a little displeased huff. Ellie did as he asked though. He scanned her long division carefully. 

“Why do some of these have all the work right, but the answer wrong?” he asked.

“Bobby pulls my pigtails if I get more points than him,” Ellie said. 

“What does your teacher do then?”

Ellie shrugged. “If she sees it, he loses recess. Bobby doesn’t care about time out. If she doesn’t see it and I tell her, I get lectured about being a tattle tail and we both lose recess.”

Daniel leaned forward. “Okay. I want you to fix these answers. If he does it again, hit him in the nose.”

“Daniel!” Betty Jo said. “What are you thinking?”

“That I want our daughter to stand up for herself. I bet if you hit him back, he’ll be so surprised and embarrassed he won’t know what to do.”

Ellie eyed him. “Kids who hit go to the principal’s office,” she said. 

“Where they call your parents.” He winked at her. “It’ll be okay, but you have to fix these answers.” 

“Okay,” she said nervously. Ellie took her homework back and went back upstairs. 

“Bus in ten minutes!” Betty Jo called after her. She turned and fixed a speculative glare on Daniel.

“What? he asked. 

“I’m just wondering what’s gotten into you. Between last night and this morning, it’s like you were sleepwalking and you’ve finally just woken up.”

At her words, he had a glimpse of a different kitchen, like something glimpsed in a dream. In that place, he was making the breakfast. Daniel brushed the vision away, shifting in his seat, and turned his focus back to his breakfast. “Sounds like you don’t mind too much.”

“I haven’t decided. We’ll see if my daughter manages to get suspended first. Better hurry and eat that, or you’re going to be late for work.”

* * *

It only took him a few minutes to drive to work, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he parked at the mill. Whittenton Manufacturing Complex had once been a busy place, activity in every sprawling inch. Despite a valiant effort, it had never quite recovered after the first World War. It was still humming along--quieter now--producing a much smaller selection of wares, mostly textiles and pottery. 

Daniel couldn’t help but think the second War was really the end for the old place, but no one had yet admitted it. He repressed a sigh as he gathered up his sack lunch and headed into the office.

They were on the second floor, overlooking the floor of looms, and he nodded and waved to various workmen and women as he climbed the stairs. The knot in his stomach tightened a little further when he realized someone was already in his office.

“Good morning, Sousa!” Valerio Almeida, another of the mill’s sales representatives, greeted him cheerfully from the chair next to his desk.

“What can I do for you, Val?” Daniel couldn’t quite keep the irritation out of his voice as he skirted the other man to sit down. 

“Don’t sound so happy, buddy. I was just hoping you’d dug up an extra lead or two you didn’t need. It would really help me out, pal.”

Daniel knew he was a mediocre salesman at best, but he was good at sussing out which people were likely to buy. It was easy to figure out who might need their goods--it was closing the deals he sometimes had trouble with. Val liked to tell him he was too honest for it, but he made it sound like a character flaw. 

“I’m still waiting for the finder’s fee on the last lead I gave you, Val,” Daniel kept his voice even, meeting Val’s eyes to avoid lingering on the man’s red nose and swollen face. Val had been handsome and popular when they went to high school, but a decade of heavy drinking later, and it was impossible to tell. 

“Aw, shucks. You know I spent it on those Red Sox tickets for the guys. Not my fault you couldn’t make it.”

Daniel suspected Val had purposely picked a night he wouldn’t be available, just in case he was willing to accept the trade for tickets. 

“I don’t have any, extra or otherwise. Sorry.” If he had, he’d probably give one to Val just to get him out of the office. 

“That’s a load of crap. I heard Liebowitz tellin’ someone you were gonna be real busy the next couple of days.”

“And he shall appear,” came a deep voice from outside the door. “Go beat your gums somewhere else, Val.” 

Val shot Daniel a calculating look before getting up. Their sales supervisor, Mr. Leibowitz, entered after Val left and closed the door to the office behind him.

With that kind of introduction, Daniel had a hard time keeping his unease off his face.

“Don’t look so worried,” Mr. Leibowitz said as he sat down. “You might not mind this so much. We need you to go down to New York for a couple days. Our warehouse manager passed yesterday, and his assistant is off on an annual hunting trip, unreachable. We need someone to go down there and make sure nothing goes missing and shipments go out on time. I know it’s not your usual job, but we need someone with his head on straight.”

It didn’t sound that bad, which probably meant there was a catch in addition to the fact that this wasn’t a request.

“The Red Hook warehouse?” Daniel asked. 

“Yeah. We won’t make you stay in Brooklyn, though. We’ll get you someplace nice--that way you can spend your evenings hobnobbing, looking for new leads.” 

There it was. He might be getting a trip, but he’d be doing two jobs while he was there. His next thought came out of his mouth without his permission.

“Val’s going to be jealous,” he said.

“Yes well, I can’t send him. Lord only knows what kind of trouble he’d get into down there. Thanks, Daniel. Miss Sue has your travel arrangements.”

* * *

“Can I call you a cab, Mr. Sousa?” Miss Murphy, the warehouse secretary asked.

“Miss Murphy, I told you, it’s Daniel. And I could do with a bit of a walk to the subway. Thanks anyway.” His brain was swimming with facts and figures and delivery dates. The warehouse manager had probably had a system of some kind, but Daniel had no idea what it was. It has taken a lot of reading before he got his head around the next week of shipments. A little fresh air would do him good.

The air on the docks wasn’t that fresh, a miasma of diesel from the boats and the slimy green smell of the river itself. It was the principle though, and Daniel focused his attention on sights rather than smells, looking at everything. The second shift dock workers waved at him as he left. The men had been a little nervous when he showed up, but Daniel let them do their jobs. The first shift had settled into their routine, pleased not to be given any new hoops to jump through. 

The warehouses were built low and close to each other, perpendicular to the street. Walking between them meant he could only see a narrow portion of the gate along the street until he reached the end of the buildings. 

As he emerged, a strange movement caught his eye, about halfway along the fence between the gate and the edge of the Whittenton property. There was a man at the gate to check trucks in and out, but as the warehouse was full of heavy, hard-to-move goods and open twenty-four hours, their security was light. The movement resolved itself into a figure walking slowly along the outside edge of the fence, stopping now and then to test it. The figure was a little short--a kid, maybe? Daniel nodded to the guard at the gate and headed down that side of the fence as nonchalantly has he could manage.

The figure resolved into an unmistakably feminine one, and he had been correct: she was definitely looking for a way into the fence. He started to approach her. 

A crash sounded in a nearby alley and she turned and ran. Before he knew what he was doing, Daniel was running after her, determined to know what she had been doing. He followed her down a side street and around a corner.

His lungs started burning almost immediately. He rarely had cause to run flat out, even playing with his children. Still, his blood sang with the joy of it, the pure exertion of running. His legs were longer and the woman was in heels, so Daniel was catching up quickly. The woman knew it too, and started taking random turns down side streets, trying to obscure his line of sight. 

She was just a couple arm’s lengths from him when she turned down yet another alley, and he followed… to find himself alone. She was gone. He stopped, panting, eyes up. The alley was a dead-end, so she had to be here somewhere. Behind the dumpster, maybe? He started to walk forward slowly.

A kick landed on his hamstring, causing the muscle to cramp. He stumbled forward and managed to turn himself as someone rushed him, shoving him roughly against the brick wall of the nearest building. He felt more than saw the gun raised to his temple, an arm across the base of his throat. He was too busy staring at the face of the woman who now held him captive.

He knew her.

Well, he didn’t really know her, but he knew who she was. He had seen her in newspaper photos and once distantly during a parade, on the arm of Captain America. Agent Peggy Carter had fought with Steve Rogers in the war. Rogers had been lost and then eventually found in the Arctic, miraculously alive despite it being nearly a year since his plane had gone down. 

They had married almost immediately upon his return to the land of the living. Apparently that Captain America Adventure program had been a lot more realistic than Daniel would have guessed. 

Then just a few months later she went from America’s most famous war bride to it’s most famous widow. Miracles be damned, apparently Captain America could still die. The details of the mission that took his life were still classified, but nearly the whole country had turned out again for Cap’s second funeral. At least this time, they had a body.

Daniel looked at Agent Carter and had a sense he not only knew her, but knew her grief. It had been sharpened to a double edged blade that cut her as surely as it cut her enemies. His heart ached to see it.

“You’re going to tell me who you are and you work for,” she said evenly, British accent precises, with only a trace of breathlessness still left in her voice from their run. “You’re going to tell me how you found me, and where to find them, or I will shoot you and leave your body right here for the rats.”

Daniel gulped. He believed that she would, but he also felt his ire rise in response to her accusation. He hadn’t been doing anything wrong. He made sure to keep very still, his arms against the wall, but he answered her in a mocking tone. 

“My name is Daniel Sousa,” he said, “and I work for Whittenton Manufacturing. You can find them inside the fence you were poking at, and I would like very much to know what you were doing.”

“That’s adorable,” she said, “but I’ll ask the questions. What do you do for Whittenton? Security?”

“I’m a sales representative. Perhaps you are interested in purchasing some pottery?”

“Bollocks. What is a sales representative doing hanging around the warehouse? Shouldn’t you be buttering up some would-be buyers?”

“That’s where I’d be right now if you hadn’t been poking around private property, ma’am.” He shifted uncomfortably against the wall. This argument was producing a strange sense of deja vu in him, but he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like he’d had an argument in an alley with this woman before. “I’m just filling in for our warehouse manager. He passed recently.”

Agent Carter stared at him. “You’re a terrible liar. Why would they send a salesman to run the warehouse?”

“Why would an agent of the SSR be poking around private property?” he shot back. She flinched, apparently surprised he recognized her. He went on, “I’m sure the company’s lawyers will be very interested to hear about you attempting to gain access without a warrant. Not to mention threatening me after I caught you doing it.”

Carter straighten up, dropping her arm away from his throat. She didn’t lower the gun. “Fine. If you are who you say you are, tell me about the connection between Whittenton Manufacturing and the Steingarten Group.”

Daniel frowned. “I don’t know who that is.” He didn’t, but it seemed vaguely familiar… like maybe it had been on one of the dozens of invoices he had looked at today. He couldn’t be certain without looking again.

Agent Carter apparently found his puzzled expression convincing, because she lowered her gun. She almost collapsed into herself, cursing under her breath. A scuff of a shoe on pavement at the opening of the alley made them both jump, Carter lifting her gun to train it on a tall blond man sauntering their way.

“Far be it from me to tell a lady how to develop her intelligence sources,” the newcomer said, “but I think in this case you’ll get more flies with honey.” 

“Jack,” Agent Carter spat, lowering her gun. “Where did you come from?”

“I was following the guy that was following you,” Jack replied. “You’re getting sloppy, Marge.” 

“I knew he was there,” she snapped.

“But you mistook this innocent fellow for him, leaving me to take care of your tail for you. Not very good situational awareness, Agent.” Jack’s voice grew a little softer. “Peggy, c’mon. You’re exhausted. You’ve been chasing leads non-stop for far too long. And now you’ve harassed and hounded someone who could be an excellent source of information.”

Peggy-- _Agent Carter_ \--turned to eye Daniel skeptically. “You think he could help us?”

“Wait a minute,” Daniel said. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t want any part of it if it means giving you privileged information. I could lose my job.” _Not that it would be much of a loss_ , a niggling voice inside him said.

“Even if they’re breaking the law?” Jack asked. 

“If you have proof, you could get a warrant,” Daniel said. “You don’t need me.” 

“Unfortunately, you can know something’s true and still not be able to convince a judge. Besides, we’re pretty sure the evidence we need is leaving your warehouse in the morning.” Jack said. He glanced at Carter, a little concern on his face. “Look, it’s dinner time. Come eat with us and just listen to what we have to say. If you’re not convinced, at least you’ll get a free meal out of it. I guarantee it’ll be more interesting than whatever you had planned for tonight.”

Daniel followed Jack’s gaze. Peggy looked annoyed, but also a lot thinner than he remembered from the pictures, almost hollow. Her neck was ringed with a nasty bruise and she looked more than tired. What had happened to her?

He could find out. Even if he couldn’t help, Jack was right--dinner with the agents would be a lot more interesting than wining and dining buyers uptown. The chase had been more invigorating than anything--since the war.

He was probably going to regret this.

“Okay,” he said. “What’s good to eat around here?”

* * *

They stayed in Brooklyn, and the pub they led him to was a dive. Daniel would never have chosen to eat at such a place, but the two agents appeared to be regulars, exchanging a nod here and there. 

He ended up wedged between them in a corner booth.

Jack engaged him in small talk while they sipped at drinks and waited for for their food. Or it seemed like small talk, but was probably a very careful check of his bonafides. They talked about how long Daniel had worked for Whittenton (since the war), where he had traveled for them (only New England until now) and what they had done during the war. Jack only said something about digging trenches in Japan and somehow learned all about Daniel’s officers’ training and engineering unit.

Agent Carter meanwhile spent the entire time examining the contents of a notebook, half listening at best. It reminded Daniel of--no, he could _picture_ her bent over tables of evidence, looking for leads like the noir lead of some detective picture. The image was as clear as day in his head, although he had obviously never seen her do such a thing. 

Jack shamed her into putting the notebook away while they ate.

“Look, Daniel,” Jack said between bites of steak. “You served, just like us. You know sometimes you have to take actions for the greater good. Besides, this is actually very low risk for you. If there’s no connection between Whittenton and the group we’re investigating, no one will ever know we were there.”

“And if there is a connection?” Daniel asked.

“Everyone involved is going to regret it,” Peggy said vehemently. 

“This Steingarten group--well, what they’re into is big,” Jack said. “Anyone connected to them will go down.”

“Seems like that would still lead to me losing my job,” Daniel said. The thought bothered him a lot less than it should. 

“With a severance package, most likely.” Jack said. “Besides, I can tell you’re a good guy. You can tell us no and just go back to work. But it’ll bother you, not knowing if your company is mixed up in something.” 

“Maybe it won’t,” Peggy said. “Maybe you’re giving him too much credit. Mr. Sousa here is out for himself, just like everyone else. We’re wasting our time.” 

Daniel felt himself bristle, even though he knew she was goading him on purpose. “At least I’m not reckless, unlike some people!” They glared at each other, and again he felt like had been in this situation before… and it had ended in a kiss.

That was ridiculous. Agent Carter looked more like she was going to punch him rather than kiss him. 

“Easy for you to say,” she said. “If you knew what was at stake, it wouldn’t seem reckless.”

“I think we’re getting off track here,” Jack said. “Look Sousa, this is easy. Let us see Whittenton’s books, maybe look at a couple shipments. We won’t take anything. We just need to know if there is something there that can get us a warrant.” 

Daniel heard Jack, but he was still studying Carter. She was still glaring at him, her body tense as if she might actually hit him. There was something in her eyes that told him without her anger, she would collapse entirely. It was all she had to keep her going.

“I’ll take you,” he heard himself say, “on one condition.” 

“Which is..?” Jack asked.

“You tell me what exactly is at stake.” He was addressing Peggy more than Jack, but at his words, her face flushed.

“No. No way. You don’t need to know that,” she said.

“You brought it up,” Daniel said. 

“Peggy, why don’t you go over to the bar, get another scotch?” Jack suggested to her. “You’re just picking at your dinner anyway. Let me talk to Daniel here.”

“And let you paint me as some damsel in distress, Jack?” Carter asked. “No way. I’m not leaving you to appeal to his chivalry, if he even has any. We’ll find some other way. I’ll go back to tracking their hired hands.”

“They all know what you look like,” Jack sighed. “You’ll just end up with someone’s hand around your neck again, and I might not be there to help this time. I suppose when you get strangled, at least you’ll still have your pride.”

“If I just wanted to rescue a damsel, the reason why wouldn’t matter,” Daniel put in. 

“Fine!” Peggy said a little too loudly. People glanced at them. She waited until they had gone back to their drinks and conversation. In a half-whisper, she continued. “We believe Steingarten is a front for Hydra.”

“Hydra?” Daniel asked. “As in the research arm of the Nazis? I would have assumed we got them with the rest of those jerry bastards.”

“We thought so too, until--” Carter left off, her mouth pursed like the words were too bitter to say.

“Until they got Rogers,” Jack finished for her. 

“You’re sure?” Daniel said, his mind leaping ahead. That explained their desperation, their willingness to cut corners. 

It also explained why Agent Carter looked so exhausted, worn down. It had been years since Captain America died, and she had apparently been chasing leads all that time. He had settled back into his life after the war, but she was still fighting one. 

“We’re positive,” Jack said. Daniel barely heard him, his eyes on Peggy Carter. She shuddered as he watched, and then dragged her eyes up to meet his. “I mean, he took a completely unnecessary risk,” Jack continued. “Talk about reckless--”

Peggy cut him off. “--So now you know. Let’s go,” she said.

Jack settled up the tab. Daniel followed them out of the pub, wondering why following their lead felt so familiar.

* * *

There were men waiting for them as they approached the warehouse, standing just beyond the reach of the streetlights lining the fence. They moved to block the agents’ way just like thugs in every mob movie Daniel had ever seen, and it was hard not to laugh.

Neither Peggy or Jack laughed. Instead they flanked him, tensing for a fight, hands on their sidearms. He got that feeling of deja vu again, although it was quickly replaced by a nervous dread. He hadn’t been bad at hand-to-hand in the war, but it seemed a long time ago.

At least three thugs didn’t appear to have any firearms. One had a baseball bat, but otherwise they were armed mostly with glares and muscle.

“Agent Carter,” one of them said, “Mr. Steingarten would still like a word with you.”

“Some blokes just don’t know how to take no for an answer,” Peggy said. “I’m afraid my dance card is full tonight. How does next Thursday sound?”

“You got a pretty smart mouth,” the thug said. “But if you want to keep your teeth, you’ll come along quietly.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel saw Peggy grip her gun under her jacket. 

“Peggy,” Jack said, a warning in his tone. “I know you owe this bastard, but we don’t have time for dead bodies and police.”

“Fine,” she said. “The hard way is more fun anyway. Do try to stay out of the way, Daniel.”

And then she charged the man on the left. Jack went for the one with the baseball bat on the right. Daniel didn’t have time to indulge his indignation, so he stepped up to the man in the middle, the one who made the threats. 

The thug had turned to grab onto Peggy, so he didn’t see Daniel coming. That made it easy to get an arm around the throat of the thug and to pull him back. Unfortunately the man was a couple inches and probably thirty pounds heavier than Daniel. He twisted, pushing backwards, and managed to slam them up against the wall of the alley. Daniel managed to keep his head forward so it didn’t slam on the brick and his back took the brunt, but it hurt. He managed to hang on, and still squeezing, as the thug slammed him into the wall again.

Daniel had a glimpse of Peggy moving in, and then she did something to the thug he couldn’t see. The man pinning him to the wall gasped in pain and started to crumble to the ground. Daniel followed him down, landing on top of him, still squeezing. 

He stayed that way for a couple minutes as the struggle went out of the man underneath him. When Daniel was sure he was unconscious, he rolled off the thug and onto his back.

Peggy Carter stood over him, offering him a hand. He took it, and she helped him to his feet.

“I told you to stay out of it,” she said, but her eyes were dancing.

“Why should you have all the fun?” he asked, his grin wide. They looked at each other in appreciation for a long moment, the thrill of the fight still singing in Daniel’s veins, until Jack cleared his throat.

“We need to go,” Jack said. “When these guys don’t show up with us, they’ll send more.”

* * *

The second shift employees were surprised and wary when Daniel returned to the warehouse. He simply introduced Jack as a potential buyer. The off-hours visit might be unusual but not unheard of. Once in the office, it was easy enough to isolate the Steingarten account, complete with manifests for their shipment.

The bad news was that it was a large one, with a baker’s dozen of shipping containers.

“It’ll take too long to search them all,” Jack said. 

“What are we looking for?” Daniel asked. 

“Directions,” Peggy said. “One of the shipments is supposed contain the information needed to construct a specific Hydra-designed bomb. They’re selling the design to fund their ongoing infiltration activities. If we find them, that’s our proof Steingarten is dirty.”

“We have no idea what they look like. Could be blueprints rolled up in a carpet or vase. Could be something else. Our source hinted they would be in code,” Jack added. 

“Several of these contain carpets or tapestry, lots of places to hide a few bits of paper. Let’s take turns examining the manifests,” Daniel suggested. “Look for something that sticks out.”

They did. Jack wanted to search the one that contained the pottery, as the rest were all filled with carpet or textiles. 

“Doesn’t feel right,” Peggy told him. 

“Two of them are vastly overpriced for their supposed contents,” Daniel pointed out. “These two.” He picked up the ones in question. “They’re going to a different delivery address from the others. Overpricing them seems like a great way to hide a payment.”

“I agree,” Peggy said. “If we don’t have time to search both, which do we open up?” 

Daniel took the manifests, reviewing the contents again. They looked like typical fabric shipments, except for the exorbitant pricing. They weren’t identical. One had some wooden furniture included. A hollow table leg would make a great hiding place… but something told him it wasn’t it. 

“This one, the all fabric one.” He knew he was right, even if he didn’t know why.

* * *

It didn’t look like a container that held anything special, when they opened it. Just rolls and rolls of cloth, bundled onto pallets. Peggy didn’t hesitate, and started dragging rolls out onto the plastic Daniel had laid on the warehouse floor. They were in the warehouse closest to the water, the one where containers went when they were already filled and ready to ship. Eventually the workers packing containers would bring in a newly filled one, but for now they were alone. 

Jack moved to help her, unrolling it. “This is going to take forever,” he sighed. 

Daniel found the half-sized sample bundle and unrolled it. It contained bits of all the different patterns supposed to be loaded in the container, pinned with a tag that indicated how many rolls of each should be there. He started checking it against the contents. 

Halfway through the samples, he found one that claimed there was only one roll loaded. That would be unusual enough, but he couldn’t find that roll anywhere. 

He looked at the pattern more closely. It was blue and cream and gold woven in a precise pattern. He had sold a lot of it, but the pattern on this swatch was wrong.

“Look at this,” he said. The agents came over to him. He pointed to the fabric. “This piece is woven wrong. This cream color is supposed to run both vertically and horizontally in the weft, but it’s only going vertically. And these gold lines are all supposed to be the same size, but some of them are thicker than they should be.”

Jack and Peggy looked at each other. “A code,” they said at the same time. Peggy took the swatch from him and went over to a table, pulling out her notebook.

“You have a knack for this,” Jack said. “Ever think about making a change from the sales business?”

“Every day,” Daniel confessed, his eyes on Peggy. He watched her pour over the fabric, counting, making notes in her notebook. Right then he wanted to change everything. He loved Betty Jo and the kids, but right now he had to wonder what life would have been like had he met Peggy sooner.

“Do you think she’ll be able to move on now?” he heard himself ask.

Jack sighed. “I don’t know. She still blames herself for the Cap’s death, because she couldn't convince him to wait for backup. At least now she has a chance--thanks to you. We’re good, but we never would have puzzled out the manifests without you, never mind noticed the swatch.” He raised his voice. “Well, Carter?”

“I’ve got part of it. It’ll take some time to decode the whole thing, but this looks like instructions on how to mill the bomb’s outer casing.” Peggy looked up, eyes shining. “We did it.”

Daniel met her eyes. He couldn’t help but wish to spend his whole life trying to make her always look that happy.

* * *

* * *

The baby’s cries woke him first, ripping him out of the dream. Daniel almost dumped himself on the floor, the sensation of having two whole legs still with him. He caught himself and reached for his prosthetic, but Peggy was turning over before he got it on. 

“Bloody teething,” Peggy muttered. “Why do babies need teeth anyway?” 

“This weather isn’t helping,” Daniel said. The late winter storm still lashing the windows with wind and rain and the occasional sleet. “It’s okay, Peg. I’ll get him a washcloth to chew on,” Daniel said. “Go back to sleep.” 

“Good,” she said. “This is your fault anyway, for agreeing to name him the way you did. Now we have two boys named Jack keeping us on our toes.” She rolled over and dragged the covers over her head. He smiled at her grumbling and headed for the kitchen with Jack.

Pai had given him a trick when they had spoken last week, but Daniel was pretty sure they were out of whiskey to rub on the baby’s gums. It took a bottle, a frozen washcloth and about 40 minutes of rocking, but Jack finally fell back asleep. Daniel was about ready to cry himself, he was so relieved. Normally he didn’t mind sitting up with Jack, but the weather was making his stump ache ferociously. He couldn’t wait to take his prosthetic back off while the aspirin kicked in. It was the one bad thing about having moved back to New York. The weather in Los Angeles couldn’t be beat, Peggy’s moaning about the heat aside. 

Peggy rolled over to look at the ceiling when he got back into bed. 

“Can’t get back to sleep?” he asked.

“Nope. Having too many thoughts.” 

Daniel knew why. It was the same reason he had just had that bizarre dream. It was March 4th, the day they had lost Steve Rogers. 

“It’s the day,” he said. 

“Five years,” Peggy said. “I’m sorry. I thought I would be over this by now. I have you, and Jack, and SHIELD and still--”

“It’s normal to be sad, and to wonder what might have been,” Daniel said. He stopped rubbing his aching leg to slide his hand onto Peggy’s belly. “I’ve told you that. I do it too.” He thought about the sense of aimlessness he had carried through the dream, and the pain that had haunted Peggy in it. It hadn't been worth having both legs. “Moments of regret are one thing. It doesn’t mean you haven’t moved on.”

Her hand covered his, acknowledging and accepting his comforting gesture. “As long as you don’t find me ungrateful. You are probably the best husband and partner I could have.” Her voice turned light, teasing. “After all, you’re so much better with women than he was.”

“I am?” Daniel asked, laughing. She had never told him that before.

“Oh, yes,” she purred. He recognized her tone and turned his head expectedly. They reached for each other at the same time, lips meeting with equal passion. Apparently neither of them were going back to sleep just yet, but that was okay with him.

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by lillianfromaccounting but too salty for her taste  
> #stopdefrostingsteverogersearly2k17


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